


Grey Area

by PrinceBirb08



Series: Chill Out AU [1]
Category: Just Shapes & Beats (Video Game)
Genre: Chill Out AU, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, crossposted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceBirb08/pseuds/PrinceBirb08
Summary: Fresh has never felt particularly attached to the Treeangle, the mystical, almost sacred plant smack in the center of Paradise. Perhaps it has something to do with the reason why he's frustratingly, powerlessly grey...
Series: Chill Out AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639861
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather old fic and was my first formal foray into the world of JSAB fanfiction! I'll be posting other fics at the same time, most of which already completed!

“And so, after the return of the great Treeangle, peace returned to our little Paradise, although one scar from the calamity remained.”

Paradise Middle School was, once again, having its infamous Treeangle Appreciation unit. And as always, Logic Gatekeeper’s eight grade classroom was the center of it all.

Logic rattled on, “Today we remember the event in fear of the treacherous pinks, although it may shock you to learn that some of the peaceful pink shapes remain alive today.”

Fresh could barely keep his eyes open as he listened to the teacher drone on. He, along with every other student in Mrs. Logic’s classroom had long since learned the story of the Treeangle… many, many times before.

In fact, Fresh recalled, glancing out the window, the room had a pretty clear view of the mystic structure, which cast a hauntingly tranquil light upon its surroundings. The sight only did more to ease the young shape’s nerves, slowly lulling him to sleep.

His eyes slid shut, and his head hit the desk with an audible thump!

The impact did little to awaken him; a running joke among his peers was that he was quite thick-skulled, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. He could pull the strings of a practical joke and form the perfect plot, but common sense tended to fly right over his head.

“Dude,” the kid sitting next to him lightly prodded him on the arm, and he mumbled incoherently, trying to tell them to leave him alone. The other student ignored his muttered plea, using their fortunately blunt pencil to jab him in the side repeatedly, like an annoying woodpecker. “Do you wanna fail this class? We have a test over this junk tomorrow.”

Fresh grumbled, finally cracking an eye open. He sat up, looking around blearily for the shape that had disturbed his momentary rest. He turned to face his tormentor just as they reached to jab him in the side again, reaching to snatch the pencil from their grasp.

Before he even bothered to meet the kid’s gaze, the irritable preteen snapped the writing utensil in half, letting the two splintered pieces clatter to the linoleum floor. Eyes half-lidded, he then looked up at the other shape.

The other student was a red circle with squarish, dark eyes and glasses that looked like they belonged in the 90s. They smiled just a bit too widely for someone who’d seemed irritated just moments before, and when they removed their glasses, Fresh could see bright sparks in their gaze ignite every few seconds.

The shape introduced themselves with a muted chuckle, “The name’s Zone.”

Fresh averted his gaze, hissing, “I don’t think I asked, kid.”

“Heh, rude.” Zone laughed again, reaching down to pick up the fragments of their pencil. Fiddling with the two pieces, he hummed, “According to Logic Gatekeeper, only pink shapes are supposed to be so mean.”

At that moment, Fresh’s eyes widened, and he turned around to face the board again, pretending to pay attention to the lesson if only to block out Zone.

Scrawled with too-enthusiastic detail on the blackboard was a detailed diagram of the Treeangle. Several “interesting” facts had been added around it as an afterthought, although Fresh presumed that Mrs. Logic would’ve been happy to write a whole book on the subject if given the time.

The instructor’s triangular eyes lit up as she sang, “Now… onto my favorite part of the lesson.” She looked around, searching for the most inquisitive students, otherwise known as the few kids who paid attention. “Could anyone tell me what happens when two shapes of primary colors have a child?”

The ever-so-studious Clash raised a hand from the front of the room. Fresh rolled his eyes, beginning to lower his head again to resume his sleep.

As expected, Clash’s nasally voice rang out, “A shape of secondary color is born! Usually with the powers of both parents, mixed into something wonderful!”

Everyone else collectively groaned. Clash had been the child of two very affluent, powerful shapes. Her mother had been a dainty yellow square with the ability to summon floating constructs. Her father, a tough red circle who owned a search and rescue facility, famed for his unique strength and ability to call forth great cannons.

And so, whenever the opportunity presented itself, the orange hybrid found it necessary to flaunt her lineage.

Logic Gatekeeper applauded the shape’s… enthusiastic input, smiling warmly. Eyes scanning the room, she noticed the practically comatose Fresh, her happiness shifting to slight irritation as she crossed her arms.

“Well, then. Since the subject of typical hybrids is too boring for Fresh, how about he answers my next question?”

There was a simultaneous chorus of, “Oooh,” with a few students even snickering under their breath, “Busted.”

Fresh’s face would’ve turned pallid had he had any hue to begin with, his eyes going wide as all eyes turned to him. In the corner of his eye, he saw Zone shoot him a reassuring glance, although the look did nothing to ease the young shape’s nerves, his internal beat racing in tempo.

“W-well…” In an uncharacteristically soft tone, he asked, “What’s the question?”

Mrs. Logic expression twisted into a vindictive grin, and Fresh felt beads of sweat trail down his face.

“Fresh, dear. Can you explain to the class what happens when a pink shape has a child with a shape of another hue?”

Even the normally inattentive students, the troublemakers, turned around now. Fresh felt eyes boring into him from all angles as he fidgeted, clueless. He could practically sense their amusement, already hear the whispered taunts being spread.

He found himself choking on his own words as he muttered, “It’s just like any other mix, right? P-pink and orange make peach. Pink a-and purple m-make mauve?” He forced a grin, if only to preserve his deteriorating confidence. “B-basic c-color theory, amiright?”

At his side, he saw Zone wince, shaking his head with a grim expression. The other shape was the least bothersome of his peers, practically emanating waves of sympathy in his direction. Or, as Fresh saw it, pity.

Logic Gatekeeper’s smile dropped, and for a moment, it seemed as if she’d been hopeful for him to answer correctly. Thinking again, she was mostly offended that even her students could get such basic facts wrong, a sigh leaving her as she turned to face the board.

“Let this be a lesson to you, class.” She began to jot down fervently scrawled notes, punctuating her speech with each screech of the chalk. “First off, pay attention.”

Fresh covered his face with his hands, groaning softly. He felt his cheeks heat up with a pale blush, his eyes stinging with the beginnings of tears.

“What really happens when pink and other colors is quite possibly the simplest to remember.” Mrs. Logic drew a messy diagram depicting a blue heart and a magenta flower. Below them was a sad looking grey figure of ambiguous shape. She then turned around to explain the depiction, “No matter what shade of pink you start with, mixing it with any other color results in a grey, powerless child.”

Fresh felt himself exhale shakily, his mind reeling. Just like… him.

One kid raised his hand, yelling out before Logic could pick him, “So one of Fresh’s parents was pink?”

The teacher nodded slightly, folding her hands together. “Sadly, the Treeangle’s light no longer accepts pink. It can exist alone, but hybridization is impossible.”

Before anyone else could ask a question, the dismissal bell rang, everyone seeming to jolt awake to collect their things in preparation to go home. The afternoon announcements blared from the P.A. systems, although it was drowned out by the sound of excited children and the futile yells of the teachers.

Seeming to know that nearly everyone was leaving at once, Mrs. Logic took to cleaning off her desk, stacking papers and packets in preparation for grading. She didn’t seem to notice as one student remained, practically frozen in place, his head on the desk.

Fresh sat up as the last of his peers left, leaving only him and the teacher in the classroom. He dimly acknowledged Zone as the kind circle lingered by the door, waiting for him. Sighing sadly, Fresh waved goodbye to the other student, a message for them to leave without him.

As his new companion dashed off to catch up with his other friends, Fresh found himself unable to move, his legs seeming to have fallen asleep. He wiped tears from his eyes, feeling his entire body shudder as he forced himself to get up, if only to hurry up and get home.

He had made it about halfway to the door before Logic noticed him. She looked up from her previous activities, tilting her head in confusion as she spotted him.

“Fresh?” He froze as he heard her voice, turning around despite his willingness to walk away.

Ignoring her would only come back to bite him later, when he’d really need the teacher’s patience. He’d learned that fact the hard way after being grouped with the laziest student in class on a project the previous year.

Logic seemed to notice the vacant, tearful look in his eyes, frowning slightly. “Are you okay?”

Fresh’s eyes widened, and he made an effort to quickly wipe his face on his sleeve, suddenly grateful for his jacket.

Forcing the shudder out of his tone, he mumbled, “Y-yeah. Why wouldn’t I-”

Mrs. Logic cut him off, “I understand that Treeangle Week can be especially stressful for a grey shape. Feeling like you do not belong is a horrible thing, but I can assure you, no one blames you for what your ancestors did.”

Fresh’s breath caught, and he scowled. His eye twitched in annoyance, and he backed up a few paces, a snarl clear in his voice. “You don’t know anything!” His hands tensed, and for a moment, he wished that he’d had the pink-inherent power of turning his fingers into claws. “I… I’m not upset over a dumb tree! What’dya think I am, a botanist?!”

Logic Gatekeeper pursed her lips. Sighing, she stepped from behind her desk, placing a comforting hand on the young shape’s shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, only for the grey being to jerk away, hissing.

He spat, “Adults don’t know anything!” then ran out the door, never stopping to look back.

Logic lingered, too shocked to speak, her only thoughts being of pity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's gone horribly wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is mind-numbingly old and therefore only about half the quality of my current works... but most of my other JSAB content is tied to this in some way, so on with the show for the sake of context!

Fresh ran blindly, his eyes streaming with tears. He no longer cared where his path took him, too focused on escape than actual direction. He just wanted to flee from Mrs. Logic, away from the school, away from the Treeangle.

…Away from everyone.

Even after half an hour of running, he could still see the tree’s infernal light in the corner of his eye. This week it was at its brightest, after all, and even the sun itself was enamored with the majestic twinkle of the structure.

It seemed that all of Paradise had dropped everything to visit the site of the Treeangle at its finest, basking in its colorful glow. Fresh vaguely recalled Logic Gatekeeper telling of the monument’s ability to heal, which visitors sought during the annual event.

To a grey shape, such a sentiment was plain crazy!

Fresh came to a staggering stop at the edge of a bridge, collapsing without a beat in between. His head was pounding, his heart racing as he struggled to breathe, hugging himself.

Eyes squeezing shut, the young shape threw his head back, shrieking to the skies, “What’s so great about a tree?!” To him, it was ridiculous. “It’s just a sparkly plant, and… ARGH!”

He shook with rage, balling his hands into fists as he stood, leaning against the edge of the bridge.

He had to keep moving…

He could see a small cave up ahead, able to spot an odd glimmer emanating from within.

His scowl twitched, and he took a shaky step forward, testing the bridge. The cavern before shone with a flickering, vaguely pink hue. It piqued his curiosity, momentarily banishing the young shape’s anger.

Something within him snapped just as the glow faltered again, and he broke into a run, his eyes widening.

“W-wait up! Hey!” he found himself yelling. “Don’t go!”

The light continued to glitch and flicker, and Fresh quickened his pace, nearly tripping as he dashed into the cave. From what he could see, it was rather deep, although the odd glimmer provided more than enough light to navigate.

The small blossoms and mushrooms along the walls also shone with a passive light, although their blue tone went unnoticed to Fresh in the face of his target.

That strange glow beckoned him forth, like a silent call. For some reason lost to the young shape, he wanted nothing more than to find its source, focusing his previously angered energy on walking.

The path through the cave was fairly well-worn and straight, although it seemed like no one had been down here in ages, a few old, broken lanterns lying around, having fallen from hooks in the walls.

Fresh picked up one of the shards of glass, turning it around in his hands. It sparkled in the glow of the cave, glinting softly. Despite himself, he smiled slightly, then placed the glass piece in his pocket. It could come in handy later, and he had to admit, he liked the shiny edge.

Turning a corner, the young shape’s eyes widened as he finally spotted the source of the light. Among the rocks and stalagmites, a lone Treeangle shard hovered, giving off an intense, pinkish glow.

It floated by its own power, emanating waves of tranquil energy. However, the peaceful stasis was shattered as Fresh came within range of its light, and the shard sparked to life, its lovely tune quickening in tempo, almost excited.

Excited… to see him.

Fresh found himself running to reach it, his gaze filled with wonder. He reached for the shard, watching, awestruck, as it floated to meet him. It hovered around him almost inquisitively, flickering with an increasingly intense glow.

A few times, it managed to brush against him in its orbit, although it didn’t hurt, only giving off a small, tingling sensation. It was nothing like the supposed sting that hazardous pink was supposed to give. And if he was being honest with himself, Fresh found the shard quite pretty.

Fresh breathed, “What… are you?” The piece seemed to gravitate to him as he did to it, although what caught his eye was its pinkish hue. “Mrs. Logic said that all pink stuff was bad… and it hurts.” He held out his hands for the shard to come closer, smiling. “But you…”

He was cut off by a sudden, terrified yell from the distance, “Fresh, what are you doing?!”

Fresh’s trance was shattered by the call, and he snapped his gaze towards the exit. The shard floating above his hands started to spark violently, and he glanced back at it, nearly dropping it as a pink jolt hit his hand.

Upon looking back, the grey shape saw a familiar figure stumbling towards him, obviously unused to climbing over obstacles. Said figure fumbled with loose, outdated glasses, which they stuffed in the pocket of their jacket as they scrambled to get to him.

“Zone?” His voice held an edge to it as he narrowed his eyes, his earlier scowl returning. “Why did you follow me?”

Zone finally managed to get their bearings, hopping over a rock and crossing their arms. Their tone held an aura of worry as they asked, “That’s my issue, bud.” They raised an eyebrow as they noticed the shard in Fresh’s hands. “What’cha got there?”

His grip on the Treeangle leaf tightened a bit. Zone seemed to notice, tilting their head to get a better view. Like a child trying to hoard candy, Fresh shied away, turning so that the shard was held tightly to his stomach, hidden from view.

He hissed, “None of your business.”

Zone’s expression twitched, and they stepped closer. Their voice wavered with concern as they reached out, only for Fresh to stagger backwards.

“Look… you seemed pretty upset. No one else wanted to help, so it just… seemed like the nice thing to do, friendo.” A hesitant, yet kind smile spread across their features, and they continued, “Come out and watch the Treeangle with me. They just set off the fireworks, and…”

They trailed off, noticing Fresh’s lack of interruption. From what they’d seen previously, he normally would’ve cut them off by now. But now, he was oddly silent, seemingly fixated on… whatever was in his grasp. Moving closer despite sense warning against it, they reached to tap the other shape on the shoulder, about to ask what was wrong.

Their hand had just brushed against his shoulder when he seemed to snap.

“Go away.” Fresh suddenly spat. His tone was venomous as he growled, “Leave me alone.”

He didn’t move, although Zone could feel him beginning to shudder at their touch. They couldn’t see his eyes at this angle, although they could practically sense the anger radiating from him.

“Wha… what?” Their smile began to falter. Something was horribly wrong. “Dude, I-”

“Just GO AWAY!”

Fresh jerked around, slapping Zone’s hand away with surprising force. The concerned circle staggered back, holding his hand, which suddenly stung with much more pain than a normal hit should’ve caused, especially at such an awkward angle.

It felt like… the burn of a pink attack.

Eyes wide, Zone looked down at the back of their hand, a startled squeak escaping them as they saw pieces of their very form beginning to flake away, like deteriorating code. Fresh seemed to notice as well, although whatever shock he had soon wore off as the shard in his other hand glitched with light.

As they processed the sight before them, Zone noticed the increasingly saturated pink hue that was beginning to shine throughout the cave, spreading its aura like a corruption.

Backing away, they gestured frantically at the piece, “Fresh, you need to…” They paused, choking on their words. The pain in their hand was spreading, intensifying, like a wildfire. “You need to throw that thing away!”

Fresh’s eyes darted between Zone’s arm and their face. His own gaze grew blurry with tears as he glanced down at the shard in his grip, swaying on his feet.

Something deep inside of him broke.

Tone breathily soft, he voiced, “I… don’t wanna.”

Zone deadpanned, “What?!” The circle seemed ready to bolt if things went bad. “That thing’s making you go wacky! Toss it before you lose your mind!”

Fresh’s eye twitched, and he growled, an almost primal anger overtaking him. Lashing out, he snarled, “No!”

He watched Zone’s expression carefully, sensing the absolute terror in their stance.

They held their injured arm close to themselves, protective, fearful even. Fresh felt his resolve falter as he realized that the fear was directed at him. This was quite possibly his only friend, and now… they were afraid of him.

He felt his hold on the Treeangle shard drop, the shard floating around him like a hungry mosquito. It buzzed with a passive energy, with its own tune that resonated with his own song, like it was meant for him. In fact, he was starting to feel that “energized” state that he’d heard other shapes speak of in reference to the Treeangle itself.

Indeed, the small fragment was drawn to him, and his so-called friend dared to tell him to let it go?

Despite himself, he laughed. It started out as a chuckle, a morbid, soft laughter that bubbled up from his core, slowly spreading through him like a plague. The chuckle soon erupted into a maddened giggle, and Fresh wasn’t sure when he began to cackle like a madman, throwing his head back in an insane state of delirium.

Snapping his gaze back to Zone, he grinned, holding his stomach. “You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” He took an experimental step closer, just to see how the circle would react. “And why is that?”

Just as expected, Zone recoiled. “Fresh, you’re really not acting right.”

“Never felt better, actually.”

“Fresh… Look out!”

It suddenly occurred to the maddened shape that Zone was pointing to something. Tilting his head in confusion, Fresh hesitantly stole a glance behind himself. He was met with a jarring sensation of stabbing pain, a scream echoing through the caverns.

The Treeangle shard shot forth, jamming itself into the recesses of Fresh’s head. He was instantly knocked back, his eyes flickering with a discolored glow as his world was plunged into darkness.

The shape hit the ground with a dull thud, magenta tears running from his eyes as his expression set itself into a rictus grin.

Flashes of pink burst beneath his eyelids, like threatening fireworks. He was dimly aware of Zone’s terrified scream as he lost consciousness.

Pain, his senses screamed back. In that moment, pain was all he was. His fellow students always said he was thick-skulled, yet the Treeangle shard managed to drill its way through. Some maddened part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, although he found that he couldn’t even breathe, his own lungs seeming to stutter and spasm.

Unbeknownst to him, his entire form was seizing up, twitching like a dying insect. The Treeangle’s power wormed its way into his nerves, igniting them with agonizing energy. His body, unused to the sudden power rush, reacted violently, and soon, even his euphoric state was washed away in a haze of pain.

“Fresh… Fresh! Wake up!” Zone dropped to their knees, shaking Fresh like a ragdoll in a vain attempt to wake him. “Come on!”

They nearly jumped back as they spotted a sickly pink hue beginning to rush to his face, his complexion oddly flushed considering his naturally pallid tone. The rosy corruption, for lack of a better term, spread like a rash along the shape’s limbs and face, his eyes beginning to flutter open.

The fire in his nerves still raged on, yet he managed to wrestle back the feeling in his limbs. He blindly reached forward, barely able to see for the tears in his eyes.

Zone felt tears sting their eyes as Fresh seemed to regain a bit of consciousness. The grey-pink being’s voice came out breathily, “Zone?”

The circle wordlessly scrambled back, their breathing shallow and swift. They tried to remain “cool,” dropping their tone to what they perceived as calm. “Dude, you knocked yourself out.” Even so, they couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in their eyes. “Heh… took you long enough to wake up.”

Fresh smiled, despite his disoriented state, although Zone could sense something odd in his expression. “If you… if you say so.”

He then went silent, his labored breaths being the only thing to ruin the stillness. Zone stood, holding out a hand for the other shape to accept, to help him up. Fresh blinked owlishly in response, only to accept the gesture, standing with some difficulty.

He swayed a bit on his feet, eyes half-lidded.

Breaking the silence, Fresh asked, “Can you carry me back?” His words were slurred as he began to teeter. “I think… I’m gonna be sick.”

Zone glanced over at him, tilting his head. Their eyes widened as they saw Fresh’s pathetic stumbles.

Without another word, the other shape fell forward, the circle having to move swiftly to catch him. Stumbling slightly from the sudden weight, Zone tensed, listening for breathing.

Much to their relief, they heard a series of soft, rhythmic inhales and exhales, their fear lessening, if only slightly.

Setting Fresh’s limp form on a nearby rock, they reached into their pocket for their phone, dialing up the nearest ambulance. They’d memorized the emergency number, as was a constant of Paradise’s youth, only having to think for a moment about what to say as the phone dialed.

Sitting next to Fresh, Zone held the device to their heart, listening with baited breath for a reply.

“Please answer, please answer, please, please…”

“Paradise urgent care. What’s your emergency?” There was a small click as the receiver picked up, a calm woman’s voice sounding from the other line.

Without a moment’s hesitance, Zone just about screamed into the phone, “It’s my friend… he’s unconscious in the cave near the Azure Bridge. Got stabbed with a Treeangle piece, turning pink.”

The operator silenced as Zone rambled, a small gasp being the only thing to tell of her shock. Zone felt a twinge of hopelessness, glancing over at their friend as more of that blighted magenta raced up his body, like a rash.

As an afterthought, they added fervently, “Please tell me you can fix him. I’m a bit battered, too, but he won’t wake up, and I don’t know what to do.”

They stole a glance at their own hand, letting out a sigh as they saw their “broken pieces” already beginning to come back together. Whatever strange damage they’d endured was temporary, they presumed. They weren’t turning pink, and they wouldn’t shatter.

Fresh on the other hand… was a different story. In the short duration of the call, the angry rose shade had infected most of his face. They could have been imagining things, but Zone thought they saw claws on his hands, choosing not to dwell on it for the sake of their sanity.

Breaking the young shape from their thoughts, the woman on the other line assured, “We’ve pinpointed your location. We’re on our way.”

Zone assumed that the operator had to deal with another caller, as the line dropped soon after that. They gave a heavy sigh, chuckling bitterly as they glanced back at Fresh, tears dripping from their eyes.

The shard that had impaled his skull had just about vanished, and judging by the odd pink hue centered around that spot, Zone guessed that it had either been completely absorbed or had just drilled to his brain.

The latter option made Zone feel sick to their stomach, a frown spreading across their face just as fast as the pink blossoming on Fresh’s face.

Every so often, he mumbled in his “sleep,” only doing more to worry the circle. They hoped dearly that help would arrive soon…

“Alright, Fresh,” they whispered. They forced a smile, sighing. “I’ll stay here, ‘kay. You’re gonna be… gonna be okay.”

As the time passed, Zone felt their eyes grow heavy, and they curled up, holding their phone like a lifeline. Their eyes slid shut after an unclear amount of time, and they drifted into a restless, long sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has to be my favorite chapter besides the finale! I still remember writing this one last year, and I'm glad that I get to show it to a new audience now!

Fresh’s eyes fluttered open slowly. A groan rumbled from his core as the bright light assaulted his retinas, his vision becoming blurred as his eyes watered.

What… happened?

Grumbling, he attempted to sit up, only for something to restrain his arms, a yowl of startled pain escaping him. A wordless mumble of confusion slipped from his lips as he shifted, trying to recall what he was doing prior to this.

Was this a prank? He didn’t really know anyone well enough for someone to joke around like this, but… this room was unfamiliar, even at first glance.

As his senses caught up with him, he heard a faint, repetitive beeping sounding from somewhere in the room. Fresh stilled, feeling his heart race, the beeping sound beginning to speed up in response.

A heart monitor, he realized. Which meant he was in a hospital. His struggles returned with renewed vigor, an extreme panic beginning to settle in his stomach. His face was flushed, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t move.

Glancing around for a clue as to what was happening, he caught sight of his own arms, his panic growing as he realized that his complexion wasn’t its usual grey, but a bright, toxic pink. Thinking again, he felt a bit different, a constant, buzzing energy having overtaken his core.

He couldn’t recall the last few days. All that came to him was a blank. Why was he pink? Why was he being restrained?

Had… had he hurt someone?

Fresh tried to speak, to call for help, yet all that left him was a raspy whisper. Hysteric, the young shape tried to yank his arms from whatever was restraining them, to no avail.

The anxious feeling grew and grew, mixing with a building frustration until…

Something burst, a flash of violent pink energy erupted from the space around him. Fresh felt his anger fade, if only slightly, replaced with confusion. The lights continued to glare down on him, almost mocking his discomfort.

Breathing heavily, Fresh found himself stilling, his entire body aching with a dull, resonating pain. The rosy hue that had infected him dulled a bit, mirroring his fatigue. Whatever that light was, it left him exhausted, all fight leaving him as he felt his eyes start to close.

It would be nice to just… go to… sleep.

“Hey, don’t go to sleep, yet, buddy!”

Fresh’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he forgot his situation, shooting upward to look at the source of the noise. His arms caught, nonetheless, the momentum causing a tearing, sudden pain to race from his core. Unwilling to aggravate that pain, he found his resolve crumbling. A groan left him as he laid back down, dazed.

He heard rapid footsteps from somewhere next to him, barely able to crane his neck to watch as Zone scrambled inside. The other student held a bag of what looked like candy in their hands, a happy grin stretched across their face.

Oddly enough, they didn’t seem shocked by his current predicament, seemingly happy to see him awake, if anything.

How long had he been unconscious? He wished he had time to mull over his thoughts, to remember something, although Zone broke his concentration with a jubilant cheer, “You can’t go back to sleep without sayin’ hi, first!”

They dashed to Fresh’s bedside, placing the snacks down on a previously unnoticed table by the wall. They reached into the bag, grabbing a cheese-filled pastry for themselves before placing a chocolate bar next to Fresh.

It was odd, how they acted as if they’d been friends for life. Fresh felt a terrifying notion come to mind, an almost nauseous feeling rushing through him. He couldn’t recall much; who was to say he hadn’t just lost his memory?

“Brought ya a snacky, bud!” Fresh looked up just as Zone tore open their snack, salivating at the smell of… pie? They took a bite of their pastry, smiling. In between bites, they hummed, “Enjoy!”

The gesture was kind enough, and no obvious sadness or malice laced their words. However, a certain, important detail seemed to have flown over the circle’s head, which Fresh caught, a twinge of annoyance creeping into his mind.

The bedridden shape eyed Zone oddly, a small frown quirking his features. How was he supposed to…?

Zone’s eyes filled with realization, and they clapped their hands together, laughing sheepishly. “Oh, right.” They made no moves to free Fresh’s arms, however, awkwardly fidgeting. “The doc said you can’t get up, friendo. For your own safety and whatnot.”

With that, the friendly circle retrieved the candy, waving it before the other shape in a slightly teasing manner.

Fresh growled under his breath. His expression twisted into a deep scowl, and he began to struggle again, a burning anger welling up within himself. That magenta shade began to race up his limbs again, like a fiery rash. His eyes suddenly began to sting, and he let out a furious exclamation, spasming.

Zone jumped back just as that pink burst from before returned, letting out a startled yelp as the flaming glow seared the edge of their jacket. In their rush to move, they dropped their pastry, the filled treat being vaporized by the flash. It fell to the floor in a crispy pile, the crust beginning to flake away into dusty particles before their eyes.

Blinking owlishly, the young circle took a shaky step back. A nervous smile spread across their face, and they looked back to Fresh, who seemed to be just as startled as them.

“Dude…” Their voice held a fearful, high-pitched quality. “Never do that again, ‘kay?”

Despite himself, Fresh nodded wildly, his eyes wide. That odd flash seemed to come from him, this time, leaving the same, tingling energy behind. He hadn’t meant to scare or hurt anyone, although it seemed that the pink blast had a mind of its own.

In that moment, he’d been feeling quite angered. His aggression had peaked much faster than usual, and even now, he was feeling a bit irked, although he found little reason to be.

Making a mental note to keep an eye on his emotions, he attempted to speak, “Why… why am I… in here?” His throat was raw, and his voice sounded rather gravelly, but his point was clear. “What happened to me?”

Returning to the bedside hesitantly, Zone explained, “Whatever that shard was, it clocked ya in the head, buddy. You wouldn’t stop shakin’ and letting off those weird energy blasts, so they tied ya down.” A tone of sympathy invaded the circle’s voice, laced with what Fresh picked up on as fear. “You had everyone pretty spooked. I didn’t know if you were gonna wake up at all.You’ve been out for days now.”

Fresh’s expression filled with sadness. He began to fidget, attempting to move, yet the ties on his arms held fast. Making sure his voice was as soft as possible, the now-pink shape pleaded, “Can you… untie me?” He added with a frown, “I promise… promise not to h-h-hurt you.”

He felt terrible, having to even consider the thought. Deep down, he knew he’d never harm another shape, especially his new friend, although his memory blank, combined with his new, corrupted state, left him feeling uneasy.

Still, he wanted to get up, to move, if only to assure himself that he still could.

Zone suddenly gained an anxious look in their gaze. Averting their gaze, the circle fumbled for an excuse, “Fresh, you know I trust you, but…”

One look at the bedridden shape’s pleading gaze made their resolve break. Sighing in defeat, they reached over, quickly beginning to undo the ties that held Fresh’s arms at his sides. 

“You’d better not get us in trouble,” they warned. Frowning, they added, as an afterthought, “And don’t zap me with pink, either, buddy. I’m watching you.”

Fresh chuckled bitterly, “Just get me outta here.”

The restrains fell away, and the pink shape instantly felt better, stronger even. It was like the ties had possessed an energy blocker of some sort, which was dispelled as they were undone. Upon being released, Fresh instantly sat up, letting out a relieved sigh as he stretched.

The pink energy thrummed through his veins; it beat with his internal song. He felt the power calming along with himself, his earlier hysteria just about diminished. The anger lingered, although Fresh figured that it was just a lingering bitterness, most likely elicited by his lethargy. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, after all.

He slid off the hospital bed with a sigh, standing to his full height. Whatever odd power he’d stumbled upon hadn’t just given him abilities. Fresh found that he now towered over Zone by a few inches, able to see over their head effortlessly.

Zone stumbled back a bit, obviously shocked by the height difference, their eyes darting up and down to fully examine the changes that had come to their friend.

Fresh internally chuckled; if there was any description for the circle’s reaction, it would be jaw-dropping now, almost literally. The amusement soon spread to his core, and he found himself laughing aloud, raising a hand to stifle his snickers.

It was a harmless reaction, although his smaller friend saw it as anything but.

Looking up at him, Zone seemed to recall the last time he’d laughed like this, a nervous expression ruining their smile. Blanching, they questioned, “You’re not gonna go kooky again, are ya?”

Fresh’s laughter halted suddenly. Glancing at the other shape, he found himself frowning, his mind swimming with dim recollection. At the mere thought, his head began to ache, and he grimaced, crossing his arms.

From what little he could recall, he really had gone berserk for a moment back there. It frightened him to think of, the concept of going on some sort of power trip, of hurting those who cared for him… would he go insane again?

Would he lose his mind? Would this pink state cause him to hurt someone? He’d certainly gained the ability to harm. Who was to say that he wouldn’t one day use it?

Who was to say that he wouldn’t enjoy that?

Uncomfortable with how morbid his thoughts had become, Fresh shook his head, quaking.

His eyes narrowed, and he growled, “No way.”

Zone seemed to sense the finality in his tone, and they quieted, looking around the room. Their eyes lit up as they spotted the bag of candy, dashing over to grab it. Practically tearing the bag open, they retrieved the candy bar from earlier, holding it up with a glint of happiness shining in their gaze.

“Now that you can actually eat…” They tossed the bar to Fresh, who fumbled to catch it. “Here’s a snack.”

Much to the pink shape’s displeasure, he was still rather uncoordinated, feeling quite dizzy from the sudden movement. The candy bar hit the floor with a crackle of plastic, Fresh’s eye twitching slightly in dim annoyance.

Without looking up, he sighed, “Y’know what?” He began to walk towards the door, if a bit shakily. Clinging to the door frame for balance, he huffed, “I’ll just get a meal from the food court.” He paused just as he exited the room to ask, “Those are free for patients, right?”

Already devouring their second pie, Zone shrugged.

Fresh sighed, choosing to figure it out himself. Looking ahead, he found himself paling at the copious hallways ahead of him, hallways that he’d have to travel through to get to some food. He could barely walk straight, and with his newfound status as a walking hazard…

Sighing, he took the first step towards what could only be classified as his doom.

This was shaping up to be quite the day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale in this (old) fanfiction, which served as the establishing story for one of my first JSAB AUs. I'm still quite proud of this fanfiction and hope that it can inspire people and possibly bring some life into the quiet little JSAB tag here. Thanks for reading! I should have another story up soon.

Fresh clumsily navigated the hospital hallways, keeping an eye out for the staff. He had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t supposed to be out of those restraints, let alone wandering freely around the building.

They’d tied him up for a reason; even if he hadn’t hurt anyone, he was pink, and he was dangerous. He’d proven that by annihilating that poor pastry.

He didn’t want to get in any more trouble, yet the painfully empty sensation of hunger gnawed at him, driving him to keep going. He was painfully aware of the throbbing ache in his back, suddenly wishing he’d just asked Zone to buy him something.

As he aimlessly turned another corner, he found himself sighing. He was here now, and it was a bit too late to go back to sleep, so, he might as well find his way around the place. Chances were, he’d be stuck in this hospital for awhile.

Fresh’s eyes dimmed in brightness, reacting to his lethargy. That odd energy from earlier had faded, leaving only an itchy, irritated emptiness. His internal song was sluggish; he could feel the slow beat thrumming in his veins. It was too quiet…

Fresh continued down the empty hallways for what seemed like an eternity. He could tell, from the soft, warm light filtering in from the windows, that it was afternoon, right after school let out, if he guessed right.

A small smile spread across his features as he realized that Zone must have rushed over just to see him. Even if he was in the hospital closest to the school, it would still take about twenty minutes to walk. Zone was a great friend, even if they were a bit bothersome at times.

Fresh distracted himself thinking of them, finding himself wandering around for a bit, aimless. It wasn’t until he felt that empty, gnawing sensation in his core that he snapped out of it, looking up to realize where he’d ended up.

Finally, the pink shape arrived at one of the lobbies, where elevator doors lined the walls, and lounge chairs and vending machines were found in abundance. His eyes lit up again, his energy revitalizing as he looked around.

And the best part… it was empty. There were no shapes to bother him…. He was alone.

Laughing in euphoric glee, Fresh ran towards the nearest vending machine, his eyes scanning the contents. It was packed with individually wrapped goodies. Most of it was health-conscious snacks, like granola bars and the like, although a few boxes of jelly beans, bags of chips, and chocolate bars were also visible.

Fresh dug into his pocket for change, his gaze set on a particularly sugary candy bar. Sweet Radiance, it was called. It was comprised of dried fruit bits, suspended in a caramel and dark chocolate shell shaped like the Treeangle. The chocolate itself had cinnamon and brown sugar mixed in as well, giving it a complex, layered flavor that Fresh loved. While the now-pink shape didn’t particularly care for the Treeangle itself, one good part of the annual festival was the overabundance of this specific candy bar.

Fresh practically shoved the money into the machine, his fingers flying to input the code for the candy, as well as a banana nut muffin and a soda. It wasn’t the healthiest lunch, but he was starved, and he felt he deserved a snack after having been practically comatose for what could have been weeks.

The muffin and the soda fell down accordingly, although as Fresh watched the candy bar with hungry eyes, he noticed as the wrapper began to snag on the spiral holder. Just as he feared, his favorite snack became lodged on the metal piece, unable to fall down the slot for claim. The shape’s eye twitched, his grin slowly falling as he shakily raised a hand, tapping the glass.

Of course, there was a huge sign just next to the machine that read in all caps, “DON’T SHAKE THE VENDING MACHINES.”

Fresh hesitated, continuing to knock on the glass, hoping that he could ease the candy bar off of the hook it was trapped on. His irritation blossomed into anger, and he felt his agitated pink energy spike. He grabbed the edges of the machine, starting to shake it violently. The candy bar was stubbornly hooked to the metal rungs, having snagged by the plastic wrapper’s edge.

Fresh couldn’t care less about the rules; he was getting what he paid for. He stopped shaking the machine, glaring up at it, before he drew his fist back, pink light collecting in his claws. A frustrated growl left him, and he spent a moment staring at the vending machine, almost daring the candy to fall…

What with his luck, it’d probably fall for free for the next shape to buy something, and he’d be deprived of something he’d paid for while someone else got a freebie. He couldn’t stand the thought of that, his eyes glowing a harsh pink as he prepared to shatter the glass of the machine, to take all the food for himself… He wasn’t that hungry, but the notion itself was enough to make him grin maliciously.

“Excuse me,” a voice suddenly rang out, snapping Fresh out of his enraged state. “The sign says… don’t shake the machines. I assume that that includes punching, but I could be wrong.”

He turned to see one of the doctors, a golden hexagon who wore ivy framed glasses. She was pretty tall, even compared to Fresh’s augmented height, looking down at him over her glasses, a small frown marring her features.

Looking up at the doctor, Fresh scowled.

“Yeah, I don’t need sarcasm today, buddy.” He turned his attention to the machine. “I just woke up, and I’m starvin’, if ya hadn’t guessed.”

The hexagon nodded, smiling in an odd, passive-aggressive manner. The young shape fidgeted; he didn’t like that smile.

“I assumed so. In fact, Fresh Blixer-Beats …” Fresh tensed upon hearing his full name. He looked up at the doctor, eyes wide. “I believe you should be in bed right about now… it isn’t exactly safe for a newly corrupted shape to roam free to… attack the vending machines.”

The hexagon walked over to the machine, raising a hand. For a moment, Fresh thought she was going to hit the unit, although she merely smiled at him in that mildly irritated manner, lightly tapping the side of the vending machine.

As if on cue, the candy bar fell down, and the doctor bent down to retrieve it, handing the Sweet Radiance chocolate to Fresh, who gaped. His eyes darted from the doctor to the candy, and he felt a tiny smile grace his features, his eyes sparkling.

“Now, see what patience can do? Try to keep an open mind.” The doctor patted Fresh on the head, ruffling his tuft of hair. “Pink can limit one’s ability to maintain their composure, so I suggest trying out some calming exercises.”

The hexagon doctor stifled a warm chuckle as she walked past Fresh.

“By the way, your parents will be coming to pick you up in about an hour. You woke up just in time, kid. You’re going home.”

The car was stuffy with the smell of dust and chocolate. Fresh nearly gagged when the scent hit him, as soon as he opened the door. After weeks of breathing sterile hospital air, his lungs were unaccustomed to other smells, although he mused that part of the sensory overload could have been from his new, pink state.

Speaking of being pink…

His mother refused to meet his gaze, although she smiled warmly, obviously glad that he was okay. She was naturally pink, and Fresh thought he saw a bit of guilt in her gaze, hidden behind her shining, dark magenta irises.

As he climbed into the car, scrambling to the middle seat, he found himself sighing, hoping that things would return to normal. For a long time, his mom refused to start the car, and Fresh could see her gripping the steering wheel with an increasingly tight hold.

“M-mom? You alright?” He couldn’t stand the gravelly tone of his voice; his volume dropped to a whisper. “I’m fine… really.”

His dad glanced at him from the mirror, his golden eyes full of poorly concern.

“You sure about that, Fresh-Beat?”

Fresh groaned at the nickname, crossing his arms. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, however, stifling a chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m okay! Seriously!” He sneered, holding up his claws, which flickered pink in the dim afternoon light. “I mean, at least I’m not grey anymore!”

Fresh looked away, crumpling up a candy wrapper in his pocket. He was still hungry… starved, even… but other than that, he felt much better. He no longer felt that… anger. For awhile back there, he’d wanted to punch something. A small, vindictive part of himself had even wished for a disaster to happen, he was so angry at the world. He was just tired, homesick, and hungry.

He sighed, closing his eyes. “I just wanna go home…”

He felt the car shake a bit as the engine stuttered to life. His mother breathed softly, “Fresh…” He looked up to see her turned around, staring hollowly through him. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you about that cave. This never would have happened if I’d just told you.”

Fresh’s eyes widened, illuminating the car. “You knew?!” He blinked owlishly, his eyes shining with a pinkish hue. “I could’ve done this sooner! I mean, yeah it hurt, but I’m happy to finally be pink! It’s better than being powerless.”

His mother gained a dark tone to her voice as she hissed, “No.” She calmed slightly, sighing while shaking her head. “You don’t understand. Pink is a curse. I’m sorry you even have it in your bloodline…”

His dad added, “Listen to your mother, sport. There’s a reason why pink is harmful…”

Fresh felt tears prickle at his eyes, his face becoming flushed. That anger from earlier started to return, and he felt himself shaking, gripping at the car seats.

“But why? They never tell why pink is bad! How am I supposed to be afraid of it?!” His voice was breaking, his eyes flaring wildly. He felt the fabric of the seats tear under his claws, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, shuddering. “You never tell me anything…”

The pink circle huffed, “Fresh, you’re too young to understand.” She turned back to face the front, preparing to drive. “It’s much too complex for a child your age-.”

She was cut off when Fresh abruptly shrieked, his eyes glowing a furious magenta.

“WHAT IS IT? DO YOU THINK I’M GONNA MURDER SOMEONE BECAUSE I’M PINK?!” He punched the door, snarling. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!”

His dad tried to calm him. “Fresh-Beat, that’s not what your mother meant.”

“I don’t care! That’s what everyone else says! And I nearly hurt Zone; that’s why they tied me up! I… I’m a monster…”

Suddenly… he fell silent. He felt tears rolling down his face, and he cupped his hands to his mouth. Eyes wide, he stuttered, “I… I didn’t mean… I didn’t…”

He trailed off as he heard his mother mutter, “Your friend’s outside. You should go see them.”

His dad agreed, “Just give us a minute, sport.” The yellow triangle’s voice was strained as he spoke, trying to deescalate the situation. “You’re not in trouble.”

Fresh felt his internal song skyrocket in tempo. He growled lowly, before ripping the seatbelt off, throwing the door open. He slid out, breaking into a run across the pavement as soon as his feet hit the ground. Sure enough, he saw Zone walking out. The red circle’s gaze was cast towards the ground, their hands in their pockets. They seemed distracted as they walked, their path almost veering to the side a few times before they righted themselves.

The squares floating at the sides of their head were folded down, occasionally flicking in the breeze. They were thoroughly distracted, so they didn’t even see it coming when Fresh tackled them.

“Zone!”

The circle looked up just as Fresh launched himself at them, letting out a frightened yelp. Their glasses were sent flying, cracking against the concrete as both shapes staggered back. Fresh wasn’t very heavy; he’d certainly lost a few pounds during his stay at the hospital. Zone was considerably strong for their size, only stumbling back a few feet from the impact.

“Woah, hey, Fresh!” They chuckled as the pink shape pulled away, looking him over. “You okay, buddy? Your eyes are lookin’ a bit red.”

Fresh found himself nodding, although he was anything but. His eyes stung with barely suppressed tears, but he bluffed, “Nah, I’m fine…” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. A bit of anxiety raced through him as the fabric came away slightly rose-tinted. “It… it’s probably just a side effect… from being pink…”

Zone snickered, “If ya say so, dude…” They bent down to pick up their glasses, holding up the cracked frames in the light. “Ya did a number on them… so I guess I’ll see ya later…”

The young shape felt a bit of sadness rush through him, before he realized that Zone had made a joke, playfully punching them in the arm. They instinctively recoiled, a bit of fear glinting in their eyes. Fresh frowned.

“What?”

Zone just glanced at his glowing claws, and he got the message, awkwardly stuffing his hands into his pockets. He looked away, his happiness draining away as his expression became solemn.

“I… I was there for awhile, huh?”

He didn’t want to think about how long he’d been unconscious. How long the pink had to settle in his body, for its corruption to become apart of him. He was no longer a grey shape… not even the hospital could fix him. He didn’t particularly mind his new status, but even his parents were apprehensive around him… as if he was dangerous.

In a way, he was; he’d already proven himself capable of causing damage to others. His powers were inherently destructive, and his aggression made it easy for him to snap.

Zone seemed to understand his discomfort, their voice dropping to a whisper as they affirmed, “Yeah….” They chuckled softly, bitterly, even. “You… you really worried us, dude. And when you did wake up, you weren’t all… there.”

Fresh felt a twinge of worry go through his core, and he perked up, his eyes filling with a startled pink light. He didn’t remember waking up until today. Was it possible that he’d somehow lost control? He vaguely remembered Logic Gatekeeper’s lessons on corruption; once a shape was blighted with the pink, they would often lose their mind and turn violent.

“What do you mean? Was I… did I hurt you?”

If he’d hurt them… his fears would only be confirmed. He began to panic, his eyes starting to sting with the beginnings of tears. He didn’t want to be a monster… he didn’t want to be…

He looked back to Zone, frowning. “Did you get hurt, Zone? Please… don’t tell me… that I…”

The red circle shook their head wildly, raising their hands.

“No no no… of course not! The restraints were just a precaution… you didn’t actually try and attack. The most you did was complain about being hungry…”

All the tension in Fresh’s frame dropped, and his shudders ceased. He blinked owlishly, before an incredulous, relieved laugh left him.

“Zone… ya have no idea how happy I am to hear that…” He chuckled bitterly. “No idea…”

The circle shrugged. “I had a feeling.” A crooked grin spread across his face, and he chuckled softly. “I know ya don’t wanna hurt anybody… not on purpose. ‘S’a shame the doc didn’t seem to get it.”

They were both silent for a few minutes, before Fresh heard the car’s horn blare. He jolted, blinking in confusion.

Zone chuckled, “Looks like it’s time for ya to go home.” They stuffed their hands into their pockets, humming.

With a flicker of light, the circle summoned forth a glowing red construct in the shape of a skateboard. Fresh internally grimaced, envious. Most of his peers had long since grasped the ability to create solid magic. Before becoming pink, he was forced to watch as everyone around him advanced, praised by their instructor on their prowess. The only skill Fresh had to his name was his natural talent for music, although this was often overlooked in favor of the powers of other shapes.

Snapping him from his angered thoughts, Zone hummed, hopping onto their board.

“It’s cool. Catch ya later?”

The pink shape nodded robotically, and Zone began to roll away down the inclined street, letting gravity propel them. They were going pretty slowly, but as Fresh watched, they quickly became nothing more than a blur on the horizon.

He squinted; maybe it was just his eyes. His depth perception had been a bit off ever since the incident, and at times, his eyes stung, watering almost excessively. Blinking the tears from his eyes, Fresh reached up to wipe his face, frowning as he saw that his sleeve once again came away pinkish. He hummed in thought, beginning to walk towards the car.

Irritated with his sluggish pace, his mother slammed her fist on the horn, a blaring honk echoing throughout the parking lot. Fresh felt his heart quicken at the noise, and he rushed forward, feeling a bit embarrassed. People were trying to get some rest, after all. He thought it to be unfair to the others if he got to rest for all that time, and his mom was running the risk of disturbing them.

Frowning, he cupped his hands to his mouth and hollered, “I’m coming! Stop honkin’ the horn!”

The pink shape quickened his pace, his mind swimming with conflicted thoughts.

Everyone seemed to fear him. Even his parents were apprehensive around him now. They were happy to see him, but the stigma of pink shapes overpowered their concern. Fresh was reassured by the fact that he hadn’t harmed anyone, but he couldn’t deny the violent urges that were beginning to flare up from his core. Although he’d always had pink in his blood, it wasn’t until that infernal Treeangle shard decided to lodge itself in his head that he realized how powerful it could be.

He sighed, opening the car door. The dim afternoon light was already beginning to fade as the sun set, and he was still tired, despite his elongated rest in the hospital. He didn’t say anything to his parents, even when his dad began to pepper him with questions about how he was feeling.

His mother murmured, “Maybe there’s a way to reverse this.”

Fresh felt a twinge of anger go through him, and he growled, wanting to block the voices out.

He retrieved his favorite pair of headphones from his backpack. They were a bright cerulean blue, a peaceful shade that he’d loved at one point. Looking upon them now, he couldn’t help but grimace, the cool hue irritating his eyes. A fanged grin spread across his face, and he sent a jolt of pink energy through the device, staining it a dark shade of magenta.

He held up his claws, watching the rosy energy spark. It was proof of his power. And the more Fresh stared at it, the more entrancing it became, until he realized… he liked being powerful.

He smirked, slipping on his headphones. His own internal song echoed through his head, reminding him of his new nature, his new status as a pink shape.

Even if some people refused to accept it, he wasn’t a weak grey blossom anymore. For the first time in his life, he had power over others. Even his family was afraid of him. And he had to admit that he liked it.

His grin only stretched as pink energy crackled along his form, his once pale jacket being infected with the energy, also turning a magenta hue. He’d turn everything he pleased pink, just because he could. He was a new shape, and people had to recognize it somehow.

Long Live the Monster.

…

Long Live the New Fresh.


End file.
